Typefaces

There are holes
In the mirror
That portray
The reality of
A whole dressed
In fragments

There are faces
That hide behind
The glass that always
Find ways to stitch
Themselves onto mine—

Never consuming the
Right emotions to accurately
Depict the body movements
Reacting to the chemicals

The identities magnify
The sensations trapped
Within the cage—
Broken ribs never stop
The flower from blossoming
Yet the thorns have a way
To punctuate a crimson glow

There is no subtly
In reflections that mimic
A life yearning for purpose

There is no image that
Captures everything in
Its entirety, yet the smiles
Constantly fade away before
Ever getting a chance to
Obtain their permanence

We believe in everything
And anything but ourselves

When I stared into your eyes
I realized what I saw
In your reflection—

The sacred mirrors that
Continued to project
The feelings of imperfection

Those were the moments
Of truth that falsified your youth
"I'm fine, but who's gonna'
Be there to bury me?"

All the hands on the casket
Eyes behind tinted glasses
Everything has time
Then it passes

But the memories live on
Reminding each and everyone
To value what's at stake
For tomorrow isn't promised
Broken promises should
Never be your future's fate

The sacred images
Have never been
Crystal clear
You have just been
Staring at the reflecting
Glare in the mirror

Don't believe the
Beliefs you believed in
Or think the thoughts
You thought then

You are not your body
What you are, is enough
What you are, is worthy

You left so quickly
Your casted shadows are still
Trying to catch up

Follow me into
The inconsistencies of
Mirrored dreams within

I get you out of
Mind just to get you back in
But the sad thing is:

I see your face
I see your face
Inside that vase
Inside that vase
The ashes fall down
To the burning ground
Who's going to be there
When I go?